


Gift of the Moon

by primeideal



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Gen, Human Sacrifice, Nature Which Wants to Eat You
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 20:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20551913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/primeideal
Summary: Two humans cross a river and venture where they do not belong.





	Gift of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StopTalkingAtMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopTalkingAtMe/gifts).

I was still young at that time, and had not ever spoken to a walker. My elder sisters would have chided me if I dared make myself known to a small pest. Conversation with my sisters, the little sprouts that bloomed in rings, the moss and trees that fused into lichen, was more than enough for me.

The walker came by twos, as many did in the woods nearby. The larger of the two was a male known as Sam, and the smaller was a female, who at that time was called Ashley.

“I can’t get a signal,” Sam said, taking out one of the appendages that pests used to communicate with each other.

“Did you try turning it off and on again?” Ashley said. She smiled, though it made him scowl. Perhaps it was some sort of mating call, to flirt with one’s lover while riling them up.

“We can’t have gone far,” he pointed out. “We crossed the river, but we haven’t gone too far north since then, so it should be close by.”

_The river_ was the walkers’ name for nahav, the boundary of our domain. Some of the hardy ones who labored nearby would try to desecrate it with stepping stones and deadwood, the fallen bodies of our mindless cousins. No matter how many times we tried to wash them away, to protect the walkers from intruding where they were not welcome, they persisted in endeavoring to cross.

These two did not wear the uniforms of the laborers. They had come for pleasure and exploration, not a sense of duty. But unless they were very rare indeed, I knew, they would find no pleasure here.

“Okay,” said Ashley. She turned her head to the sky, as if to reckon by the lodestar. The night was clear and the moon was ripe, but our cousins’ leaves and twigs cluttered her view. The stars would not guide her. “I think...this way.”

“Will you just hold still,” said Sam, “and let me figure this out.”

She shrugged, drinking from her little water jug.

_How long would you let them wander?_ I asked. _It only prolongs their agony._

_Be silent, little one,_ said my sister Tirra. _They will see us when their eyes are ready._

“I think it’s east,” Sam said, pointing, and they trudged on. They walked where no weeds grew and no insects swarmed, for nothing was welcome here without our blessing, but paid no heed to their isolation.

“Did you see that?” he finally asked, flinching.

“What?” Ashley said, her coolness indicating that she had not.

“Shadows. Tall ones, it looked like a coyote or something.”

“You’re such a wimp,” she said. “And coyotes don’t even live in the forest, they show up in the suburbs and stuff.”

“Do you have Wikipedia in here or something? Get me a fucking map.”

“Map says you can fuck anyplace, I don’t really think we’re being watched.”

“Really not the time,” he said, “though I appreciate the interest.”

I felt them grow close. They were heavy with the stench of the city and the slosh of water in their packs: human water, not the sweetness of nahav. They drew near to the clear circle, the place where our mothers’ tendrils stretched deep and sung to all the outlying people.

“Now, here,” said Sam, “this place is probably beautiful when it’s day. Take a picture or something so we can find our way back when it’s not creepy.”

I laughed at his gall. Was he so chained by instinct that he would disrobe here, at the heart of the this place where he did not belong?

But it was then that Tirra spoke. “If you are fortunate enough to return at all, small human, it will not be as part of your twosome.”

“What the fuck?” Sam said. Then he repeated it for emphasis.

Ashley’s eyes were wide. “Who are you? _Where_ are you?”

Tirra unshadowed herself. To the walkers she would seem like another tree, but not an ordinary tree; a tree who held no nests in her branches, whose sleek gray bark was all of a piece, whose white roots wiggled and danced above the ground. They could not see that, when autumn came, her leaves would burn with colors too vibrant for walking pests to take in, that they would carry in the wind but never crumble to the ground. Nor that in winter, she would croon amid the snows and her great limbs would swell to bear their weight.

“Stay back,” said Sam. “Don’t touch her.” I did not know if it was fear or misplaced confidence or devotion that drove him to speak, yet I admired his folly.

But Ashley peered up, up to Tirra’s fledgling leaves, and breathed “Whoa.”

“You have broken the law of trespass,” Tirra said. “Now you will pay.”

“Oookay,” said Sam. “Kevin? Pedro? Joke’s over, can you come out?”

“Your friends aren’t this clever,” said Ashley. There was a little pinprick of light, her trying to preserve our image on her appendage for the future. We paid her no heed. She would see, or feel more, soon enough. “Um, we don’t want to hurt you, whoever you are. Can you show us the way out?”

“Not yet,” responded Brones, stepping forward.

“How many of you are there?” she questioned.

“Forget it,” said Sam, beginning to shake in the windless night. “Ashley, run!”

They ran on thin legs as if to find nahav and make an escape. Brones roared a deep alarm, and we surged forward, closing ranks around the clear circle. Even the little sprouts rose up to mark the edge of the ring. Sam pulled up, wincing as Ettis’ branches scratched his cheek, and Ashley, who was slower of foot, stopped before she reached us. She stood right in front of me, reaching out her hand as if to touch me, but hesitated.

“It’s all right,” I whispered. “You’re not going to be in any _more_ trouble.”

She gently touched my bark, rubbing her hand up and down slightly.

“Oh my god,” said Sam. “Knock it off.”

“Your gods cannot aid you here,” said Brones.

“I’m not sure about that,” Ashley said.

“Here is what we require,” said Tirra. “One of you will remain here, freely and gladly yield your body up to us. The other will be granted power; the right to leave this place in safety. You will never return here and never speak of it to another. If you do not agree, you will both be flayed inch by inch on our branches.”

“Give you our body?” Sam echoed. “Is this like a sex thing? Nobody cheats on me with a tree.”

“Ignore him,” said Ashley. “He doesn’t get it.”

“Get what?” he said. “I swear, if you and Pedro set this up I’ll make you wish—”

“Please let me stay,” she interrupted. “Please take me.”

“You are eager, for a small thing,” Tirra cautioned.

“I couldn’t live with myself if I left. Even if he doesn’t understand. I couldn’t—I can’t—_please_.”

We felt her yearning to be made complete, her desperation to be free from guilt and shame forever. I did not know what burdens she bore in the busy realm of the walkers, but I sensed that more weighed on her than the life of her mate. That in giving her purpose, we were offering her nearly as much as she was offering us. Perhaps their trespass had indeed been timely.

“Don’t be afraid.” I brushed her cheek with a low-bending leaf. A few little hairs were warm and soft against me. “We have heard you.”

“What the fuck is this,” said Sam.

“You will be silent,” said Tirra, “or you will wish you had.”

Even the stupid walker understood that.

_What do I do?_ Ashley wondered. We heard her curiosity, even if she held herself in silence, no doubt concerned Tirra’s demand applied to her as well.

“Lie at our feet,” I said. “Be still, and do not fear the pain. You will delight in it.”

She obeyed, glancing up as if to find the constellations out of view, still clad in her awkward fabrics. It is a strange habit of the walkers, to veil their skin in layers they did not grow. But all the same, we fell upon her with joy. We seized her limbs with our roots, spread vines around her center, and sucked the breath from her trembling chest. It was Tirra’s right, as first-spoken, to twine her heavy roots around Ashley’s neck, commending her to the rich soil.

“Ash!” Sam cried, but his weak voice did not carry even as far as nahav. “_Ash_!”

In a moment all the power of the seasons surged where she lay. Her fabrics became shreds that hung on the limbs of mute trees. Her bones gave way to rocks and young sprouts, so that only a keen eye used to darkness could make out the pattern of her ribs and her skull within the ground.

“You will leave this place,” Brones commanded. “The little growths you call mushrooms will light your way to the water you call the river. You will cross there and you will know how to return. You will not speak of us, as long as you draw breath.”

“I can’t go back,” said Sam. “They’ll—think I’m a killer.”

I felt Ashley’s spirit settle beneath us, and knew the words to say. “You will say that she got lost, that you sought her out but could not save her. That she had always been ill at ease in your world. They will believe you, and it will not be wholly a lie.”

He stammered, wordless, and then he ran, his head bent low to follow the little sprouts. We heard him recede until he was at last beyond our refuge, and we were once again at peace.

That is how the walker Sam became the newest of the filrou, the blessed ones who have entered and may leave again. And it is how the walker Ashley became ushlaran, First Gift of the Spring Moon. It will be a long time, my sisters tell me, before another pilgrim has such gratitude for our embrace.


End file.
